


Comfort

by peaceloveandjocularity, stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25802293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaceloveandjocularity/pseuds/peaceloveandjocularity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: When the officers of the 4077th make fun of Klinger's decorating, they do more damage than they think.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Comfort

Hawkeye and BJ found the 4077th’s company clerk on his knees in his office surrounded by forms that needed sorted, shredded, or filed, wearing the grim but determined expression of a soldier marching toward a field of fire. He didn’t look up when they entered, but said, “One crack about Radar doing it better and I’ll never requisition so much as a pair of mismatched socks for either of you ever again, sirs.”

“He’s still mad,” BJ reported to his partner in crime. 

Hawkeye found a clear space on the floor and claimed it. “We’re sorry, Klinger.”

“Uh huh,” said the clerk. “Translation: we need you to do something for us so please ignore the fact that we’ve spent the whole day laughing at your expense. I’ll bet I get a  _ lot _ of sorrys in the next couple of days, sirs. One of them might even be sincere, but I won’t hold my breath.” 

“Klinger,”

The clerk waved him off, still determinedly trying to see to his work. He’d already endured a day of teasing; he didn’t want the evening’s entertainment to be a dressing down because he’d failed at his job. “Yeah, yeah. Not your fault, really. I shoulda remembered my place on the totem pole: smack at the bottom.”

“Aw, c’mon, Klinger!” BJ protested. “You know we’re friends.” 

“That’s funny, sir, ‘cause Major Winchester just compared me to the company mutt and it sounded about right. I’m there to fetch things, to make you laugh, and I don’t belong to anybody so if you want to kick me when  _ you’re _ having a bad day, nobody’ll say boo about it. Do you sirs realize that none of my other jobs went away when I took this one? In the middle of the night when you’re laughing and drinking, I’m freezing on guard duty. When ambulances phone down that they’re on their way from battalion aid, I get to wake you up, make the coffee and sandwiches,  _ and then  _ scrub and go to OR. I work post op. I put you back in your bunks when you’re too tired to get there. I peel potatoes and try to fix the PA - sometimes at the same time! And then I get to come back here and try not to hear the wounded moaning next door. And all the way through all I ever hear is ‘do it faster,’ ‘not good enough,’ ‘there’s that idiot Klinger - sure wish  _ his _ uncle had died so we could have Radar back! Hell, maybe  _ he  _ could get killed and they’ll send us a half decent replacement! They couldn’t find anyone worse unless they sent out to the enemy.’ So, spare me the ‘we’re all such good friends’ line. I work for you, sirs, and that’s the end of it.” 

Sighing, Hawk held up a piece of paper as a white flag. “Alright, Klinger, we’ll give you a minute to cool off, okay?”

“Just put that back where you found it,” came the reply.

Feeling defeated, the two slunk out. 

Benjamin Franklin “Hawkeye” Pierce was, it was to be admitted, better at unearthing and resolving injustice in others than facing failures in himself. So, as Klinger’s words sunk in, he didn’t focus on his own errors, omissions, or moments of mistreatment: he centered on the individual he considered a bigger bully than himself. 

Stomping into the Swamp trailing BJ, he demanded, “What gives, Charles?”

Genuine interest lit the surgeon’s eyes as he looked up from his reading. “I admit that I’m unskilled at vague interrogations, Pierce. If you’d care to be more specific, perhaps…?

“You upset Klinger,” BJ explained, then, in his role as the embodiment of Hawkeye’s conscience/better sense, added, “We all did, actually.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Hawk. “I didn’t compare him to a stray dog.” He glared at the third member of their strange healer’s trinity. “ _ Charles _ .”

Charles straightened and set aside the medical journal he’d been scanning. “I believe there’s been something of a misunderstanding, Pierce.”

“Oh? You’re saying Klinger isn’t smart enough to understand all those big words you use?”

“Not ‘tall. I simply mean that while I did compare Klinger to a pet, I didn’t mean it in the way in which he - and  _ you _ , it seems - have taken it.”

“How did you mean it, then? He’s a person, you know. Not some stray thing you can kick around and pick on.”

“I am well aware that the Corporal isn’t  _ my  _ pet.”  _ A situation I should very much like to remedy if it were at all possible _ . “Furthermore, I am also aware that it’s not you to whom I need render my apologies or explain this connotative complication. Gentlemen.”

Hawkeye and BJ watched him go before trading looks. 

“Well, Dunce Quixote, I think you just got Charles  _ out _ of the doghouse.”

Hawkeye sighed. “Woof.” 

***

When Charles strode into the mess he was trying to unmake, Klinger sighed. His neck hurt from bending over piles of paper. He usually had to look up at Charles anyway, but not from the floor. He waited for the shine-my-shoes crack he sensed was forthcoming, but Winchester just knelt. “Pierce informs me that you are somewhat less than pleased with me, Corporal.” 

Klinger looked perfectly disgusted. “Of course he did. Well, you can forget all about it, sir, because  _ he’s  _ the one I was chewing out.”

Charles chuckled; he’d never seen Klinger angry. There was something rather adorable about it.  _ Though you be but tiny, you can be fierce, it seems,  _ he thought. “Let me see if I understand you right, Klinger. You’re displeased with my colleagues but  _ I _ am so low in your opinion that I don’t even rate your contempt?”

Klinger held a hand to his head, massaged his temple. “I have a lot of work to do, Major. And, as you’re very fond of telling me, you’re a hell of a lot smarter than I am, so I’m not up to fighting with you. Okay?”

Well, Pierce had been right about  _ something _ , Charles decided - Klinger was genuinely upset. “I have no wish to fight with you,” he began. “And to prove it, I will assist you in doing whatever it is you are doing with these papers. In return, perhaps you would condescend to let me explain what I meant when I upset you?” 

“ _ You’re  _ gonna stay here on your knees and help me file med charts? And you’re not gonna tell me I’m stupid every five minutes?” 

“Just so.”

“All to get me to listen to you? Maybe  _ you’re  _ the one who should get the section 8, Major.”

“Very funny. Kindly explain this system to me, yes?”

So, Klinger did. And having a spare pair of hands to sort, sift, stack, and file  _ did  _ help. Soon the floor was free of its coverings and Klinger was sitting on his cot, ready to hear out the supplicant surgeon.

“It is true,” Charles began, “that I joined in with my colleagues to give you a hard time. But it was to you, alone, that I was speaking when I commented on your pet-like demeanor.” 

Klinger hadn’t considered this. “Okay, sure.”

“The truth is, Max, I was, perhaps, speaking, ah, wistfully.”

The eyes that met his at the termination of this statement were perplexed, wary, and curious. 

“I, ah, … this was easier when I imagined doing it,” the Major said then, almost to himself. He held out a hand. “Would you?” 

Uncertain, Klinger gave his own hand over into the much larger one. Charles turned it and stroked the back, saw goosebumps appear on a thin arm. “See? You are so very, very touchable.” He smoothed his hair back from his face, reveling in the texture and the way it made Klinger’s eyes go wide. Klinger tried to look at the hand stroking his hair as if to be certain it was, in fact, connected to the man at his side. 

“You were flirting with me?” 

“Ineptly, it seems. I’ve had precious little practice.”

Klinger was still working out the nature of the comment that Charles had intended as flirtatious. Pet-like, huh? Which meant Charles wanted, on some level, anyway, to  _ pet  _ him. “And if I’d have got what you were saying, what were you hoping for, Major?” 

“The privilege of kissing you flat against one of these awful cots. In time, the right to do more than that. I could be so good to you, Maxwell, if you’d allow me.” 

“This… it’s not a trick?” 

“No. If you will tell me how I can go about convincing you, I will try.”

“Major, you don’t even  _ like  _ me.” 

Charles chuckled. “Well, perhaps I should convince you of  _ that  _ first, then.” He looked around the room, the boxed up Lebanese treasures. “Klinger, what really reminds you of home?”

“Huh?”

“I know you were, at least partly, funning Colonel Potter with your decorating. Yet there must be something that does feel like home to you.”

Klinger shrugged. “It’s hard to think about home, Major. Nobody’s exactly waiting on me back there.” 

Charles hadn’t known this about the man who’d caught his eye. Klinger was always going on about Toledo, but his paradise wasn't without its share of shadows, it seemed. “Something that makes you feel safe, then.”

Klinger tried to dissuade him from digging for this, but Charles could be both patient and persuasive. Finally, he admitted, “I miss my own language.” 

Charles was embarrassed to admit that he didn’t actually know what that was. 

“Arabic,” Klinger told him. “It’s all my mom speaks. She sends me letters, but worrying in Arabic isn’t the same, you know?” 

In that moment, Charles was forced to confront the physical aspects of his attraction to Klinger - and just how little he actually knew about the man. He wondered how difficult Arabic was to learn. “What words do you most wish to hear?” 

Klinger shrugged. “Doesn’t much matter over here.”

Charles wished to touch him again but knew he didn’t have the right. “On no previous occasion have you ever struck me as looking so grimly at the world. You’re always smiling.”

“Everybody I respect here just laughed at my family and my culture. What’ve I got to smile about?” 

“They didn’t mean it, I am certain. Pierce and Hunnicutt would protect you in a heartbeat.”

“Still hurts, sir. I couldn’t say something about BJ’s little girl or Captain Pierce’s hometown without getting chewed out. So, why’m I so different?” 

Charles looked uncomfortable. “We have allowed you to be, I suppose.”  _ And were wrong to do so.  _ “Would you like me to speak to the Captains?” 

“Nah. ‘m sure you’re right. Besides, what’d be the point?” 

“At this point, it seems  _ my  _ point has become twofold. I wish to convince you that I do care for you - and I would improve your lot here if I could.” 

“I just want to go home.”

“I know. That is beyond my power, unfortunately.”  _ And I would miss you _ . “Potter needs you, Klinger.” 

“He’d find someone better.”

“You  _ are  _ down. This whole camp loves you.”

“Yeah, like people love the fool in those fancy plays you read, maybe. They’ve got an awful weird way of showing their affection, dontcha think?” 

“I grant you that it is a strange group. However, as someone they actually  _ do  _ dislike, you might take my word.” 

“They don’t hate you, Major. You just push ‘em away a little too hard.” 

“Yet you are here speaking with me.”

“I’ve been pushed away plenty. No reason to do it back to you.”

“Oh? A legacy from home or are you talking about your time here?” 

“I’m a Lebanese boy whose first language is Arabic and whose family is known for their men wearing dresses. Take your pick.” 

“You’ll return home a veteran, so that should shore things up there. As for here, I would like to be seen with you, in any outfit you choose.” 

Klinger gave him a look that seemed to pity his lack of intelligence. “I’m still Lebanese and speak Arabic. Those won’t win me any points you know. Veteran or not. Here…” He shrugged. “You never know who’s coming through that might get offended… or might get bored and think messing with me looks like a good time.” 

“You’ve been hit then? Here?” Charles felt sick just for asking. 

“Major I’m not sure this all matters. Here, home— a beating’s still a beating.” 

“It matters because I am trying to get to know you, you prickly thing. It also matters because I am a  _ doctor _ . I would rather have my wrists broken than know you’re hurting.” 

Klinger searched his face, unsure if this last was sincere or hyperbole. “It’s not usually too bad. I can handle it.” 

“I’m not questioning your toughness.  _ I _ am the one who cannot handle it.”  _ Or even the idea of it.  _

Klinger’s anger wasn’t apparently all over what had happened today and he let Charles know it when he said, “You dealt fine enough not knowing until now.”

“I wish I had known. You never gave any sign.”  _ Or I saw what I wanted to see: your beauty alone.  _

“That was kinda the whole point. If you let people know you’re hurting they either hurt you more or they pity you. And I don’t want either.” 

“I understand your view, but may I offer an expanded perspective? I took an oath - I won’t hurt you. And I find you brave, so I don’t pity you. I could help you if you’ll take it.”

“It’s never more than a few cuts and bruises. I can handle then.” 

“You shouldn’t  _ have to _ ,” Charles snapped. “Klinger, you’ve heard Pierce pray for something normal like an appendectomy. Tending you would be a privilege.” 

Klinger rolled his eyes. “I’ll make sure to get beat up then. Just so you can all have a taste of the mundane again.” 

“Maxwell, you are ridiculous. It’s your mouth I’d like to taste and I’d prefer you unmarked and unwounded. Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly hard to court?” 

Klinger looked a bit contrite at this; Charles _was_ trying. “No one's really ever tried,” he admitted. 

“Perhaps I am just what you need. You can practice until you find someone you want to spend time with. Lesson one: allow me be kind to you.” 

“Alright teacher, how do I do that?” 

“‘Major’ is plenty formal, thank you. Let me look after you. Tell me when you hurt. What have you got to lose?”

The Corporal’s shoulders sagged. “What little pride I've got left.” 

“Why? Do you think so little of me?”

“No, I think that little of  _ me _ . I can't get hurt if I don't let people too close though. You understand that, don't you?”

Things were, it seemed, much worse than he’d thought. “Darling… I do understand. But you can’t be comforted, either.” 

Klinger remained unhelpfully skeptical, and apparently unmoved by the endearment he’d earned. “You're telling me you'd comfort me? That's a full time gig, sir.” 

“I am a hard and dedicated worker. And very thorough.” These words moved Klinger no more than “darling” had. “You would clearly prefer something else. Someone else?” 

“I just want something real.”

“You think I am offering you a fantasy?”

“I think you don't know what you're getting yourself into.”

“Why ever not?” Charles was getting a headache; he’d set out to gain a lover and felt, instead, that he’d stumbled into a philosophical debate. And despite his education,  _ he  _ wasn’t winning.” 

“Major you're used to only the best of everything right? It's one of your biggest problems being here. I get it, I do, but I also know I'm far from the best that you're used to. Or the best that you deserve. I've got a camp full of people who make that pretty clear on a regular basis.” 

_ Back to this, eh?  _ “Corporal, as far as romance goes, I am not ‘used’ to anything- and I ought to be able to choose what’s best for me. I know that you are, at present, displeased with the Colonel, Major Houlihan, the Captains, and myself. But, Max, you also know that there is a camp full of people ready to sing your praises.” 

Klinger ignored this. Something else in Charles’ speech had struck him. “Can't say I'm much used to romance either.”

Charles kept himself on a tight rein as he asked, “You were married. Surely there had to be something there, was there not?”

Klinger shrugged. “Kid stuff. She was brave, y’know? We robbed fruit stands together. I thought if somebody back home cared if I lived or died, maybe I wouldn’t die.”

“Your parents must care, your uncles? A character like yourself surely had made friends.”

“Yeah, of course they do. My mom. My uncles. My friends went on with their lives I think... and Gus married Laverne, so that’s out... but your mom thinking you shouldn’t die - we know that doesn’t work. If it did, all those boys you work on would make it.”

“Indeed…” It was a grim reminder. “I know that I am not from Toledo, but I care whether you live or die, whether you hurt or thrive. It's my reason for being here right now. If I didn't care I would be back in my tent listening to the blathering of my tentmates. As hard as I tried not to, I do care for you. All of you, but especially you Max.” 

It was a good speech; the man deserved  _ something.  _ “Alright, alright. I take it back. Maybe you do like me just fine, but it’s still a bad idea all the way around.”

“I'm a grown man, I'll be fine. Surely, I can handle a little bird like you?”

“Bird?”

“The bright, dark eyes,” Charles explained. Klinger saw himself reflected in the man's bright, yearning eyes.   


“The beak for a nose.”

“It’s a fine nose.”

“What about my wings?” 

“I’ve not seen them myself, but I have heard rumors. Didn’t you fly the coop once?” 

Klinger smiled a little at this, remembering. “Almost made it that time. The MPs caught me.”

“I owe them my thanks. Without you, this place would kill me for certain.”

“I thought you wanted Tokyo?” 

“Not without you. Though I do miss the food.” 

“I could probably scare up a coupla passes.” 

Charles felt his eyes bulge. “You will date me  _ there _ but not here?”

“I don't recall you asking for a date, Major. Unless you did it while talking circles around me. I don’t like pity but maybe I could do a date.”

Charles looked flustered. “Ah, yes, well... that’s what I thought I was doing.” 

“What do you have in mind? I sold most of the Klinger Collection so I can't guarantee fashion, but maybe I could get us some food that Igor didn't spit in.”

“Sold? Why?” He really hoped he still had the green… 

“You don't really think the company clerk should be wearing dresses do you? Besides, it wasn't working for me anyway.”

“It was most definitely working for you.”

“I'm still here aren't I?”

“I never said it was working for your discharge, but you? Most definitely. Have you looked at your legs? I don’t know why Potter chose his  _ thumb _ when they were right there, but I am glad because I would have been forced to steal the painting.”

Klinger had never seen Charles so discomposed. He obviously didn’t want to say what he was saying, but he couldn’t seem to stop. The Corporal decided to egg him on. “I've seen 'em a time or two at least.”

“Yes, well, your view was likely more chaste than my imaginings... and less flattering.”

“You’re saying you've lusted after me, Major?” 

“In the time we’ve been sitting here? Seventeen times. Prior to this maddening conversation? Quite a bit.”

Well this was kind of fun. “Just about my legs or other parts of me as well? Come on, Major. Tell me I'm pretty.”

“Did the army test your ears before drafting you!?” Charles snapped. “What do you think I’ve been telling you? You, Corporal, in dresses or out, are the prettiest thing in this country. When I cannot sleep, I think about your waist and your neck and your wrists - and these thoughts are neither medical nor professional in the slightest!” 

“That was much better. I've been hearing you say words that sounded vaguely complimentary but sometimes you gotta get out of your head and stop using that Harvard vocabulary to protect yourself.” His hand settled on the other man’s knee. 

Charles wasn’t sure whether to strangle him or drag that hand between his thighs. “There is nothing Harvard about ‘darling,’ which I thought a rather large clue. You have another pet name you prefer?”

Klinger didn’t remove his hand. “I bet even Harvard grads use 'darling.'”

“I have never before found someone to be darling. Max, why are you so very determined not to allow this? If I am so undesirable, it should render my compliments likewise, but you asked for them. I don’t understand.”

Klinger frowned. “I'm just wondering how long you think I'm going to be worth it all! I'd rather be beaten and ignored than to have my hopes raised again only to shatter.”

“I didn’t do those things to you,” Charles protested. 

“Nope. But if someone else were to shoot me, I'd be allowed to be gun shy, right?”

“Yes,” Charles conceded. “But my hands are quite empty. And if you refuse my touch, they are likely to remain so. I doubt very much that anyone exists who could take your place.” He sighed then. “I will ask you again another time,” he said. “Perhaps I can make you believe me one day.” 

“I’m not telling you to go.”

“Maxwell, I care for you. You have more than demonstrated that I have overlooked certain things, but I would like to learn. So please tell me if I may. Is there a secret password for this club? A ritual knock? Tell me, Max. You’re making me dizzy - and not in the way I prefer. What is it that you want?” 

“Something real. Like what Captain Hunnicutt has. The letters. Someone caring. A home someday.”

“Domesticity?” A light went on inside. “The rugs? The lamps? You were making a  _ house _ ? Why didn’t you say so?”

“You saw how everyone ribbed me for it.”

“They would have understood that. I would have.” 

“I tried to tell you.”

He  _ had _ Charles realized. Klinger had highlighted the way each of them had tried to make this awful place home. They’d dismissed him, kept laughing. 

“Potter said no to the office but you still have your tent. I will help you set up house if you wish it, even if I do not fit the world you’re making.” He said it for Klinger rather than for himself. “And though I am no Peg Hunnicutt, I do care for you and will continue to do so if you will permit it.” 

Klinger had begun to thaw. “I guess I could permit a little adoration, Major.”

Inwardly, Charles was delighted, but his voice was dry. “No one has set the bar this low for me, Max, since my father.” 

Klinger patted his hand. “I'll raise it a bit later when I know you can jump it, how's that sound?” he teased. 

“Please. I have always been the good son. Proper. And all for those who did not care for me. For you, I can be better still.” 

“What for?” 

Charles sighed. “I am calling an audiologist. I want you, you charming fool. I want to be whatever it is that will please you.”

“Audio? That’s hearing right? I can hear just fine Major, it's the believing it I'm having trouble with.”

“I understand that you are likely accustomed to propositions. Mine, however, is not predicated merely on your body. I am sincere, Maxwell.”

Klinger let him hold his hand again; he doubted Charles realized he’d taken it. He just wanted to be believed. “I get em,” he agreed. “There’s no follow through though. The dresses, the section 8 - people think I’m a joke. No one’s talking anything permanent.” 

“I hate that anyone could approach you with lesser intentions,” Charles admitted. “But I would hate them more if they had come before me and won you first.”

“Lucky for you the only one before you has been Laverne and we were married over radio so there was no consummation.”

Charles moaned. “Darling, please don’t say that word to me unless it’s a request. I’m not a strong man and you are as exhausting as you are enchanting.”

“What? Consummation? Can’t say I imagined dirty talk was your thing, Major.”

Charles made a helpless sound. “You are my ‘thing.’ Are you saying you are skilled in this? On whom have you been practicing?” 

“I just practice in my thoughts.”

_ God help me.  _ “Am I wrong to ask if there is a particular phrase you are partial to?”

Klinger grinned. He might be stuck in Korea - but maybe he could make it something of a home with the hungry-eyed Major sitting before him. “Well, for starters, I’m a fan of ‘get over here and kiss me, Major.’”

_ Thankfuckinggod.  _

They kissed until Klinger had begun to believe the Major’s words. Unpacking one of the heavy blankets Klinger had used as a tapestry, they went to the Corporal’s tent and just held onto each other. It wasn’t Toledo or Boston and it couldn’t shut out the horror of the OR, but it was a beginning. For Charles, it was more than he had hoped. For Klinger, it was the first bit of comfort he’d found since shipping out - and that was no small thing.

End! 


End file.
